Oleric urged haste and more haste. Presently the water was too deep for Rombar, and the current set so strongly that the dog could not swim against it. At an order from Oleric, two Rutharian hunters seized the brute by the collar, and though one of them got a gashed hand for his pains, they bound Rombar's jaws and feet with ropes and carried him on their shoulders--a task which neither they nor Rombar found pleasant. At a point in the ascent where further progress against the deepening stream was impossible, the party left the bed of the river and clambered to the right, where a flight of steep and narrow steps had been cut in the rock along a fissure which branched from the main gorge. Up nearly two hundred of those steps they toiled, until Zenas Wright and Everson, unused to such exertions, nearly fainted with exhaustion. At the top of the stairs they emerged into a forest of tall trees, oak and pine and chestnut, which grew almost to the edge of the cliffs. No sooner had he stepped from the rock stairway than Oleric knelt and kissed the black earth. "This, my friends, is Ruthar," he said as he arose and faced the two Americans. From among the trees came a tall, white-bearded chieftain, who was armored from head to heel in a wonderful suit of chain mail, links of steel that shone like silver. At his back swung a two-handed sword which was nearly the length of a man. He advanced to Oleric and laid his hands on the captain's shoulders. "You are Oleric the Red, and no other," he said. "Well do I remember you. Once I was your pupil. But that was more than three times ten years ago." He shook his head wonderingly. "You serve Ruthar well," he added. Now, had Zenas Wright been able to understand the speech of Ruthar, he certainly would have set this chieftain down as a hoary-headed liar. For how could he have been a pupil to Oleric the Red more than thirty years before, when it was plain for any one to see that the captain must at that time have been a babe in his mother's arms? "Aye, Jastla, it is the old red fox come back to his hole again," Oleric answered, striking the old chief fondly across his broad shoulders. "Which of these with you is the man--the hope of Ruthar?" questioned Jastla. His eyes passed the stubby form of Zenas Wright by and rested inquiringly on the square and soldierly Everson. Oleric's ruddy face went sober. His voice choked as he answered: "Nay, Jastla, neither of these. He comes yonder--and I fear that he is sorely smitten." As he spoke the six Rutharians who bore Polaris Janess came over the brink of the stair and laid their burden down. Jastla strode to the side of Polaris and looked down at him. "A mighty man, with golden hair--and comely, as was written in the prophecy," he muttered into his beard. "What has befallen him?" he asked of Oleric.